The Book
by Donna Ione
Summary: Harry is relocated to Washington to investigate a series of murders in the area. He meets seemingly carefree Emmett who helps him forget his stressful life. But one book can unintentionally ruin it all. Rated M for course language, sexual yaoi content and violence. Reader discretion is advised.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: I wrote this story about 3 years and then got bored with it heh. But I recently read it again, and decided to revamp it. With the revisions I feel better about it. **_

_**I hope you'll like it! Please leave a review if you do like it...or don't (^.^)**_

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Harry Potter was trying with great difficulty to concentrate on the passage he was reading. Repeatedly his eyes scanned over the same sentence only to have it not quite sink in. It had been like this for the past thirty minutes. No, it must have been an hour, he thought as he tossed the book angrily aside for the third time that morning. There was no point. Harry could not concentrate. Yet only a few moments after coming up with that half-assed excuse, he guiltily picked up the book, opened it to the page he was supposed to read, adjusted the glasses on his face and squinted at the text.

_"Soon, there was to be a great battle between…"_

Oi, it was not going to work. And it was really unsettling because it was his best friend Hermione Granger who wrote the book.

It was an international bestseller among the wizarding world, though Harry was not surprised. The book outlined the battle fought seven years ago with detail and of course Harry and Ron's enthusiastic permission. The only trouble was reading it. It was just too difficult being forced to remember all that he went through, all of those who sacrificed their lives…Still, Hermione was waiting for his review, so Harry once again focused on the words.

Soon after, his mind drifted once again as he thought of how his best friends would be soon welcoming their first child. Harry smiled at the thought, remembering how quickly they had gotten married (with Harry being the best man of course) as Hermione was still finishing her last year in Hogwarts.

"_Did you read the dedication?" Hermione's voice asked accusingly over the phone a few weeks earlier. Harry had just received the book by owl, though he was somewhat excited about the prospect of Hermione writing a book (as everything else academically, Hermione was also an excellent writer) he was now dreading what was on the pages in the thick hardcover._

"_I'm sure if you had read the dedication you would have called or something!" Hermione accused again. Truthfully, Harry had not cracked open the cover._

"_Oh...I..." Harry stammered. Quickly, he flipped the book to the front page._

_**To the one we owe our lives, Harry Potter, our hero, my best friend and soon to be uncle.**_

"_Uncle?" Harry asked with a slight frown. "What do you mean 'uncle'?"_

_Harry heard some sort of scuffling over the phone and Hermione arguing with someone else in the room._

"_Give me the phelly…HARRY!" Ron shouted, still not mastering the complicated technology of the telephone. "HARRY GUESS WHAT?!"_

"_Ron…you don't have to scream!" Harry said trying to hold back a laugh._

"_WHAT?! ANYWAY, HARRY, GUESS WHAT? I'M HAVING A BABY!"_

_Harry then distinctly heard Hermione mutter, "It's just like you to take all the credit Ron."_

"_Hermione please, I'm on the phellytone. HARRY? YOU STILL THERE? YEAH, I'M HAVING A BABY! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT…A LITTLE RON OR RONELLE…?"_

Harry smiled and shook his head slightly, as he remembered listening to Hermione struggle to pry the telephone out of Ron's hand and continue what she was saying earlier.

"_So? What do you think of the dedication?"_

"_Hermione…I'm…speechless. Thank you and congratulations. It's brilliant." _

"_You'll be his or her godfather too, won't you Harry?"_

_Before Harry could reply with a fervent 'yes', Hermione interrupted; _"_How far along are you in the book?"_

Unfortunately, Harry had barely read the first page even though he had told Hermione that he was at least fifty pages in, then one hundred, and then one hundred and fifty, and that it was absolutely amazing.

Harry looked around that small, cramped apartment he had occupied for a bit over a year. His eyes swept over the clothing, pieces of parchment, and newspaper clippings that littered the surfaces, and sighed. He should really clean the place, but just could not find the opportunity. The Ministry alone was taking up so much of his time…

Harry stood and the book fell from his lap, clattering to the floor. He made his way to the kitchen, trying to find a trace of any leftovers Hermione had prepared for him days ago. He suddenly wishing he had learned how to cook, especially after finding random, rotting, unidentifiable foods in the refrigerator.

Glancing at his wristwatch, Harry swore under his breath. He was going to be late. Picking up his wand, his cloak, as well as an arm full of parchment, Harry left the apartment, apparating from the dingy lobby to outside of the Ministry. Then, going through the motions that have become so routine, he made his way to the reception area of the Ministry, greeted by the stout secretary behind a large, golden desk.

"Good morning Mr. Potter!" She said cheerily.

"Morning Ethel," Harry said with a slight smile and a nod on his way to the elevator. Harry was so intent on getting to his desk on time, he barely noticed a woman clearing her throat softly yet repeatedly beside him. He turned his head slightly receiving a full shock when a pair of familiar warm brown eyes greeted his.

"Hey Harry…" Ginny said awkwardly.

"Hello, Ginny." Harry muttered more curtly than he intended, as they both stepped into the elevator.

He had scarcely seen her since they broke up the previous month, though every time he had; it was another stab in the stomach. Especially when seeing her as beautiful as she always was, with not a trace of stress, sadness or anger on her face. Ginny ran her hands nervously through her shiny red hair, then over her light green blouse and smiled at Harry.

"How have you been? You look…good."

Harry shrugged, wondering why it was taking such an excruciating long time to reach his floor. He knew he looked like shit. He had not really slept much during the last week, and had gotten even less sleep last night. It really did not have much to do with Ginny; it was probably something about Hermione breathing down his neck to finish the book that kept him awake every night.

"I'm just going up to see Ron…"

Great, so they were getting off on the same floor. Fucking fantastic.

"Did you hear about him and Hermione? Isn't it wonderful!" Ginny gushed. "Can you believe that they're having a kid?"

Harry nodded absentmindedly as he stared at the ascending numbers light up while the dry woman's voice announced the department that corresponded with each floor.

"Harry, I'm sorry for the way things ended."

Harry sniffled, and shrugged again indifferently. "No matter, we both want different things."

Ginny nodded slowly, as the elevator finally stopped.

Before the doors could open, Ginny grabbed the sleeve of his robe, and pulled him back with such unexpected strength; it reminded Harry of one of the reasons he liked her in the first place.

"Look," She said, suddenly glaring at him as she slammed her hand on the wall behind him.

"Don't give my your unsympathetic, hardhearted bullshit, Harry. Don't stare at me with your dead eyes, and don't you dare use that dry voice with me! We both bloody know that this was your fault!" Ginny growled, looking Harry right in the eye.

"Fine, if it's my fault," Harry glanced at his watch once more. Damn it, he was officially late. "...then why were _you _the one apologizing?"

Ah fuck, Harry thought as soon as the words passed his lips. He mentally kicked himself for asking such a question, one that might either evoke strong emotions, or take an extraordinarily long explanation; both particularly awkward situations that he really could not deal with at the moment. He just hoped that Ginny did not start sobbing, or much more likely started to hit him. Either way, it would take up more of the little time that he had, leading to him being in deep shit with his boss.

Instead, Ginny opened her mouth and closed it once more. She sighed, and removed her hand from the wall behind him, suddenly looking defeated.

"Whatever, Harry. The funny thing is, I would have stayed with you forever if you let me."

Ginny was not looking at him anymore. With her shoulders stiff and without another glance his way, she walked out of elevator.

"Ginny…" Harry called, as he began to follow her. "I _am_ sorry." He muttered to her back.

"A little too late Harry. Just a piece of advice though; maybe with your next girlfriend you can try to show a bit of emotion at least once in a while. Just so she knows that you actually care." Ginny said with a small wave of her hand. She turned into the office Ron shared with another magical law enforcement employee, Gregory Bluggins who was the head of judicial and perpetrator research.

Harry turned into his own office, setting the load of parchment on his desk and draping his cloak around his chair. Well, at least the answer Ginny gave did not take too long. However, he was now sure she hated him much more than she ever did before.

Harry began writing the first of many reports he was supposed to have finished last night. It was no matter; he had an excuse to be a little slack. Currently, Harry held the record of having the highest number of solved cases and perpetrators in custody in the past seven years. He had recently apprehended the dark wizards in charge of masterminding a worldwide terrorist op in which they had planned overthrow nearly thirty countries by controlling the most powerful people in the world through the Imperius Curse. This had made Harry front-page news (again) and had put him over the top. Whispers and gossip around the Ministry dictate that he was a shoe in to become head Auror, and at age 24 the youngest yet. As long as he could finished these damn reports…then get out, and follow up on a lead he had of some suspicious muggle murders up in Newcastle.

A piece of parchment shaped as a paper plane glided into his office and landed on the desk. Harry opened it begrudgingly, knowing that it would be yet another report he would have to fill out on Ron's behalf; he certainly wished that his friend would stop airplane-ing Harry his work. Still, with the baby on the way, Harry was really having a hard time saying no.

He quickly scanned over the neat script, his eyes narrowing at each word.

_Placement…vampires…Forks, Washington…_was this some kind of sick, cruel joke?

"Where the hell is Washington?" Harry exclaimed scanning the piece of parchment again.

Bluggins, who had been skulking outside of Harry's door, holding a pile of books and papers, cleared his throat nervously. He was a balding, twitchy type of man; a man who seemed to be more suited as a History of Magic Professor than a Law Enforcement employee. However, Harry was repeatedly reminded that Bluggins had extraordinary research skills. The man was practically a stalker.

"Washington is in the United States; the Pacific Northwest to be precise. It was actually named after George Washington who was the first President of…" Bluggins' words faltered as he spotted the murderous look in Harry's eye.

"I don't give a flying fuck who it was named after, Bluggins!" Harry barked. He sank deeper in his chair and with his elbow on his desk he held his forehead with the palm of his hand.

"Look, Harry, you're the Ministry's best Auror. This case is one that needs your expertise." Bluggins explained quickly, his voice raising an octave as he did so.

Harry had stopped listening to Bluggins all together. Stupid head Auror always bossing Harry around…he didn't know what situation needed Harry's expertise if it bit him in the ass…having Harry inside writing reports, then shipping him off to some foreign country…

Harry crumpled the parchment in his fist. He was truly beginning to see red.

"You er, have to leave right away." Bluggins said, his voice shaking slightly. Harry glared up at him.

"Fine!" He snapped, standing up quickly. He picked up the load of parchments once more and grabbed his cloak angrily from behind his chair.

This was bull fucking-shit. There were so many other Aurors they could have sent…

Then again, Harry thought taking a deep, though shaky breath. This could be seen as an opportunity to truly prove his worth to the Ministry.

Yes! The Ministry were bound to give Harry the head position after he had apprehended—Harry un-crumpled the parchment in his hand and smoothed it out—a rogue vampire coven in The United States.

"Fine, Bluggins…" Harry said quietly feeling a sudden aura of calmness. Bluggins seemed to breathe easier as well and gave him an uncertain smile.

"There are some things you will have to do since you have to go undercover as a muggle. Before you leave, I'm going to have to give you the background info of all of the members of the coven…" Bluggins continued to rattle on.

"Fine, Bluggins…" Harry said absentmindedly, this could be good. He could get out, see the world, and maybe get some sleep (seriously, how hard could it be to catch a couple of vampires?) More importantly, he would not have to worry about reading Hermione's bloody book.

"Oh, by the way," Bluggins interrupted Harry's thoughts as he struggled not to topple the pile or papers and books in his hands. He handed Harry a familiar, thick, hard covered book.

"Mr. Weasley told me to hand it over to you. He said you could probably use some light reading on your trip."

"Tell Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter said to fuck off." Harry growled.

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**_So, Whaddaya think? Once again, please leave a review! It would mean a lot. _**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow! Thank you all so much for the reviews, faves and follows! I'll try to do this couple justice! **

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Harry had just packed the last of his muggle clothing into his well worn out trunk when he heard a loud and startling _crack. _ He walked out of his bedroom, sticking his wand in the back pocket of his jeans as he left, and spotted Hermione peer around the living room disapprovingly. She was holding what seemed to be a week's supply of meals in plastic containers.

"My goodness, Harry," Hermione tsked, shaking her head. She handed the tower of dinners to him, and then patted her slightly protruding stomach absentmindedly.

"You've become rather messy, haven't you?"

Harry hastily picked up a small cauldron from the ground and grinned sheepishly. "I've always been a slob, which is why when I lived with you two I kept my bedroom door locked."

"Hmm," Hermione pursed her lips and continued rubbing her belly. "Well, those meals should last you at least a week. If you stay longer, I'll send you more."

"I love you Hermione." Harry said placing them carefully into a nearby knapsack. He honestly did not know how he would have survived without her sometimes. He would definitely starve. Harry studied Hermione as she opened his refrigerator door, grimacing as she did so. She had the glow of an expecting mother and the same warmth Harry had been used to for the past thirteen or so years.

She tucked some of her curly hair behind her ear, pulled out her wand and began to pull out various suspicious looking foods and empty containers.

"Hermione, you really don't have too. I'll deal with it later." Harry said wearily watching the contents of his refrigerator float toward the trash.

"Honestly, Harry, do you want to deal with this…" Hermione's wand held up a green slice of what Harry could only assume was cheese. "…in a week's time?"

Harry shrugged, and with a flick of his own wand he brought out his trunk and began packing up the parchments he thought he would need. Then, he closed it.

"How's the baby?" Harry asked as Hermione straightened up and washed her hands. She spun around and beamed.

"She's great…"

"She? So a little Ronelle, huh?" Harry asked feeling a pang of jealousy bubbling in the pit of his stomach, as he vaguely wondered if he and Ginny could have had what Ron and Hermione had; a happy marriage, with a baby on the way…a perfect, non perturbed life.

"Ronelle?" Hermione laughed. "What a ghastly name. I was thinking maybe Roxanne or Rosemarie, or maybe just Rose…" Her eyes glassed over; she had a faraway, dreamy look that Harry had only seen twice before; after she and Ron kissed for the first time and when she was planning her wedding with Ginny and Harry happened to walk in the room.

"Ron doesn't know." Hermione blinked. A small, expectant smile crept to her lips while she stared Harry directly in the eyes.

"Don't worry, I won't breathe a word." Harry muttered as his knapsack levitated toward him and landed on his trunk. Hermione gave Harry a small peck on the cheek.

"Good luck Harry. We are all so proud of you; I know you will do brilliantly. And uh…"

"Finish the book, I know." Harry sighed, as he thought about it in the bottom of the trunk.

Hermione laughed, patting him on the shoulder. "You know me too well. The ending is the best, really. I was actually going to tell you to find a cute American girl to bring home."

Harry couldn't help but smile. Typical Hermione.

"So, finish the book," Harry began counting off on his fingers. "Get laid, anything else?"

Hermione laughed, swatting Harry on the shoulder.

"I suppose you get some sleep; a man your age shouldn't have bags under his eyes."

Harry grinned and hugged Hermione tightly.

"Thanks, I will."

She nodded as she pulled away, and with a wink then a small rush of air, Hermione was gone.

Harry sat on his case and stared into the spot Hermione had just apparated, deep in thought.

If it were two years from now, three or five, would he and Ginny have been married? If he hadn't royally fucked things up between them, would they be raising a couple of freckled, red-haired little Potters?

"Hmm…" Harry muttered, twirling his wand through his fingers. Would they have lived in a big home, with a white picket fence and a great golden retriever running around the backyard? Then at night, would they sit around a conjured fire, their pet owl hooting softly, as they read some muggle fairy tale…?

Harry sighed and stretched, hearing an unhealthy crack. As he brought his trunk and backpack to the door, he took one last look around the living room. Although he was leaving much of his things behind, the apartment suddenly looked oddly empty.

Harry sighed, and turned off the lights with a flick of his wand. Plunging the apartment into an eerie darkness, he walked out of his home and closed the door behind him.

o/o\o/o\o/o

The small bungalow that Harry was assigned to in Forks was much more neat and homey than his apartment. The living room was already furnished with big, plushy leather couches, a large television, and a bookcase filled with an assortment of thick, worn out looking books and what looked like science magazines.

Harry levitated his bags into the room and dropped them, briefly noticing that there was another closed bedroom door adjacent from the one he had chosen. He did not dwell on it though; instead, he slowly began to unpack hoping the whole time that he would get to pack up again soon. However, Harry could not help but appreciate how welcoming the room was. Like the rest of the house, it was cozy; complete with a queen-sized bed that was already dressed with soft looking sheets and a blanket. There was also a mahogany chest of drawers and dresser set, as well as another filled, yet smaller bookcase. Harry sat at the edge of the bed staring at the dark dresser. He had to admit it; the place was nice, but Harry was already starting to miss his apartment (as shitty as it was) and his friends, Hermione and Ron. He folded his socks into one of the dresser's drawers wondering vaguely what they were doing. Ron would be finished work by now, probably already home. Hermione would perhaps be transforming Harry's old room into a nursery, covering it in pinks and yellows…

Harry sighed and abandoning his clothes all together, fished out Hermione's book from the bottom of the trunk, turning it in his hands as he has done so many times before. Why it was so hard to read? He should just take a deep breath and plunge right on in. But of course, as soon Harry opened it to the front page, memories began to swim around his mind…

"Harry!" A voice bellowed, causing him to simultaneously drop the book and pull out his wand. The voice seemed to be coming from the adjacent bedroom. Harry frowned, as he slowly made his way across the hall.

"Who's there?" Harry called, his wand pointing directly at the closed door. With his free hand, Harry turned the knob, and pushed forcefully, so that it opened widely.

A rather large, burly kind of man with grey hair and a short, pointed beard of the same colour stood in the middle of a room nearly identical to Harry's own. In his hand, he held a battered briefcase and a silver cane, while sitting on the floor beside his feet was a trunk. He was wearing a red turtleneck, which did not do anything to draw attention away from his red, puffy cheeks, or his large belly that hung over a pair of khaki pants.

"Who the hell are you?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes. The man had a sort of jolly Santa Clause look, Harry almost expected him to answer with a jovial _ho ho ho! _The stranger instead plopped down on the high bed, pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket, and started to mop his brow.

"I can't believe I'm here." The stranger muttered. Now that Harry was closer, the voice had a hint of twitchiness, nervousness and familiarity…

"Bluggins," Harry sighed rolling his eyes.

"Harry." Bluggins said, somewhat coolly, as he pulled out a tan folder from his patchy briefcase.

"So, they didn't think that I could do this on my own, huh?"

"I guess not." Bluggins mumbled, opening the folder.

"Those fucking motherfuckers."

"Language, Harry! My goodness, you are bitter. The Ministry simply thought that you would need an extra pair of hands with research and such, especially when keeping up appearances. You are supposed to be undercover after all."

Harry wasn't listening, he was too busy eyeing Bluggins' new robust belly. "So why'd you choose to come here as a fat, old bloke?"

"It wasn't my idea, all right? I am just here so that you can investigate the appropriate people and not get yourself killed. Focus Harry, this is for your own safety."

"Fine, whatever," Harry crossed his arms over his chest and subconsciously began tapping his foot in impatience. Why was the ministry making this so much more complicated that it needed to be? It shouldn't be too difficult to pick out a group of vampires from a crowd. All he needed to do was find them, track them and then throw their asses in Azkaban, or wherever bloodsuckers are normally held.

"It's a bit more difficult than initially thought. Firstly, we can't simply come into this tiny town and not raise suspicion of its inhabitants. That's why we are officially the new owners of a bookstore down the street, with me playing the role of your father." Bluggins pulled out a piece of parchment from his folder and handed over to Harry who eyed it with exasperation, without actually taking it.

"Why in the hell—?"

"The bookstore is a surprisingly popular spot. We are sure to bump into everyone who lives here, including the vampires. I can be there to monitor your interactions." Bluggins looked up from the parchment in his hand. "We took care of previous owner with the memory charm. He's in Canada with family."

Like Harry gave a shit.

"Why can't we just—?"

Bluggins interrupted him again. "These vampires are tricky beings. They have powers that are difficult to suppress. Where we need our wand, they simply need their minds."

"But then how—?"

"I am working on it. It's the superhuman strength I'm the most worried about."

Superhuman strength? Harry sighed and closed his eyes; he felt both annoyed by Bluggins and suddenly tired by his whole explanation.

"Why doesn't NAMM just deal with this mess on their own?" Harry said pinching the bridge of his nose under his glasses trying to fight off an emerging headache. So much for having a peaceful one week vacation.

"The North American Ministry of Magic has of course heard of you Harry and wanted you directly on the case. Your, uh, talents precede you."

Bluggins went on to explain that the string of murders of both muggles and magical folk seemed to have no end in sight. Every witch or wizard that has been on the case has either been killed, or has quit out of fear.

"They're at their wits end." Bluggins concluded closing his folder and slipping it back into his briefcase.

Harry was not sure if he should be flattered or furious. On the one hand, it seems as though the Ministry had so much trust in his abilities that they sent him here knowing that he could solve this case. On the other hand, they were tying a noose around his neck, just waiting to kick the chair from underneath him. Unless NAMM was completely shit at their jobs, it looked as though this case would probably require an actual team of aurors; not just him and fucking Bluggins.

"Well, let's just hope we don't get killed, shall we?" Harry said to himself. His partner didn't seem to hear him at all.

"Oh, and one more thing Harry, while we're undercover, it would be beneficial to us both if you called me father."

In lieu of a verbal response, Harry stuck up his middle finger.

Bluggins shook his head and sighed. "It's not going to be easy working with you, is it?"

"Probably not." Harry replied with a tight smile.

o/o\o/o\o/o

Harry decided to waste no time. Soon after he and Bluggins finished their debriefing, Harry stepped out the front door of his new home into the drizzly yet warm afternoon. As he walked through the small town, Harry kept his eye out for whom, if anyone looked like a vampire. To be honest, Harry had not directly dealt with them before; the one he had met a long time ago in his sixth year of school was a tall, sickly looking man with pasty skin and trying to attack all of girls in the room. He decided to start with anyone who fit that general description.

With the bookstore's keys in his hand, Harry followed the directions Bluggins had given him before he left and finally stopped in front of a small store, gazing up at the sign written in golden script.

"_Oldfirth's Books,_" He muttered. He immediately imagined old books, dusty desks, and cramp spaces. Harry opened the door hearing a little ding of the bell above it, and stepped inside.

Just as Harry had suspected, inside of _Oldfirth's Books _was old and dusty indeed, with a distinct smell of aged, musty paper. It was small, cramped, and littered with books of all sizes on seemingly endless rows of shelves. In the front corner of the store, there was a high, narrow desk where stacks of yellowing paper and a cash register sat. Posters of famous books and their authors decorated the wall, though did nothing to liven up the darkness or the dinginess of the store. Dust swerved in the air, making the placestore look somewhat misty; and although Harry had never thought he had allergies, he sneezed. There was also a small room behind the cashier desk. Curiously, Harry stepped behind the desk and into the room, and was a bit disappointed when he saw nothing spectacular. There was just a small television on a chipping wooden desk, with a striped white and green cushioned chair sitting behind it.

Harry went back into the main part of the bookstore and gazed around again, thinking briefly of Hermione. This would be her paradise, and Hermione's book would be very at home here. Harry was sure that among the rest, it would be like finding a needle in a haystack.

The sound of little ding from the tiny bell made Harry swirl around, and quickly hustle to the door where he spotted a closing sign on the floor.

"I'm sorry; the store's not open just yet—"

A man entered anyway, looking slightly confused and out of place. The first thing Harry noticed about him was that he was very tall and muscular; at least a head taller and a good thirty pounds heavier than Harry himself, giving the man an athletic, 'All-American footballer' sort of look. He had thick, dark curly hair, and oddly pale skin that struck Harry as strange for the man seemed like an outdoorsy sort of person. Yet, despite his size, the stranger was peculiarly graceful. He seemed to glide to the closest shelf and idled in front of it, with his hands deep in the pockets of his tan hiking shorts. Harry followed him, standing beside the stranger.

"I didn't see the 'closed' sign." The man shrugged slightly as way of an apology. His eyes were glued on the mountain of books as he sported a troubled look. He folded his arms across his stomach, cradling his elbow in one hand.

"Yeah, I forgot to put it up. But by all means, take a quick look around, you won't be able to purchase anything today I'm afraid."

The stranger nodded. "I'm actually looking for the kids section. It's a birthday present for…" The man finally turned his head to look at Harry and squinted, finally giving Harry a full view of his face.

"You're not the guy that usually works here are you?"

"You get new glasses and a haircut, and suddenly people think you're a completely different person." Harry grinned sheepishly.

The stranger smiled at him softly. The second thing Harry noticed about the man was the colour of his eyes. They were a strange golden shade, like honey. There was strangely something captivating about him…even though he was much larger than Harry was; he had a boyish, almost innocent look. It must have had something to do with his smooth skin and perfectly symmetrical features. It was almost as if it was etched out of marble; Harry could not even begin to guess his age. Then becoming alarmingly aware that he was staring, he glanced down at the man's black trainers. He could feel his unusually coloured golden eyes still on him and Harry began to teeter nervously on the balls of his feet.

"Sorry, I would help you out, but this is my first day on the job. Actually not really, since the store is not opened yet. I guess tomorrow would actually be my first day…"

The man didn't seem to be listening at all to Harry, who had become acutely conscious of his rambling. He however stared fixatedly at Harry, his golden eyes capturing every movement of his mouth, all the while still holding the same gentle smile.

"Who did you say you were?" The man interrupted. Harry, getting quite ill at ease, smoothed his bangs over his scar. He knew that he was in America, and not many people would recognize him here, but history has taught him always to hide his scar when people gawked at him.

"I didn't, I'm... Harry." He finally answered. Harry is a common name, right? There was no way he could be tracked down through his first name only, just in case he had to suddenly flee the country or something.

"Harry…" The man repeated quietly to himself. His golden eyes seemed to almost glass over as he continued to stare unwaveringly at Harry without blinking. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"You can come back tomorrow. I'll set some books aside for your kid."

The man shook his head slightly as if to escape some sort of trance, and turned to the bookcase once more.

"Well she's not _mine, _she's my brother's. But thanks; now I guess I have a good excuse to come back then." He grinned, flashing a set of perfect teeth and a deep dimple in his right cheek as he did so.

"See you, Harry."

As the man passed on his way toward the door, his forearm brushed against Harry's ever so softly. The contact was minor, yet it did not fail to send a wave of shivers up his spine. The man was cold, unnaturally cold.

Dead cold.

"Yeah, see you…" Harry said slowly, watching the man as he started to leave. He paused at the doorway and turned around once more.

"I'm Emmett, by the way. Welcome to our little town."

Before Harry could thank him, Emmett had already left. Harry heard the little bell tinkle, signifying his quick departure.

Harry gazed at the doorway where Emmett had just stood, frowning. His skin was so cold; his eyes were such an odd colour. And the way he stared so intensely at Harry—he shuddered—there was definitely something weird about him.

"Congratulations!" A voice boomed jovially from the little room in the back causing Harry to jump. He spun around and saw his faux-Pa hobble toward him.

"You've just met your first vampire!"

That…makes sense, Harry thought as he absentmindedly stroked his neck.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**_: "Where's this bitch with the next chapter?"_

_I'm sorry…it's been the most hellish two months of my life. Everything from a broken laptop to a break-up (everything in between). So after wallowing in self-pity, eating an endless supply of candy, and watching Shelter with Brad Rowe like 11 times (I'm sure you've all seen this amazing movie…if not go google it!) I'm out of my funk and ready to face the world again._

_*Sighs in resolve* Anyhoo…I'm sorry again, but thank you for your reviews, faves and alerts! _

* * *

After nearly four hours of tossing and turning, Harry finally sat up in bed, massaging his temples. His eyelids drooped with heaviness, yet sleep just wouldn't come. Harry yawned, covering his eyes with his forearm forcing them to close. He wasn't quite sure what the cause of this episode of sleep deprivation was, though Harry did have a sneaking suspicion.

The vampire.

Every time Emmett's face popped into his head, (and strangely enough, it popped into his head quite a bit), an odd fluttering feeling emerged in the pit of his stomach, creeping its way up to his rib-cage resting on his chest. At first, Harry dismissed the feeling as nothing more than his instinct telling him to be careful, but the more he thought about it, the more absurd the idea became. His intuition had never felt that physical… that intense. Harry turned over to fluff his pillow with his fists, and then flopped over onto his side.

It was Emmett's eyes.

That unwavering stare that followed Harry everywhere he went. That fixated gaze that not only looked at him, but looked inside of him as well.

It made him nervous. The fucker didn't even blink.

Harry sat up once again and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Then, standing up, he crossed the room toward the bookshelf, hoping that there was a book boring enough to help him fall asleep. His hand swept over the familiar thickness of Hermione's hardcover, but picked up the one next to it. Glancing down at the picture of the double helix on the front, Harry didn't even bothering to read the title but yawned again anyway. Perfect—

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something move. Harry's gaze landed on the small closed window beside the bookcase that he had barely noticed before. Through the darkness only illuminated by a single bulb of light from the streets, he could have sworn that there was a pair of yellow eyes staring back at him…

"Holy mother of fuck!" Harry exclaimed, dropping the book and making a mad dash for his wand that was on his bedside table.

In his head, he was much more suave; leaping effortlessly over the bed and grabbing his wand in one heroic swoop, pointing it at his voyeur. In reality, Harry tripped over his foot, hitting his head and elbow on the wall behind him. A tingling feeling shot throughout his arm and he paused, rubbing his elbow vigorously.

"Damn it," He muttered, repeatedly flexing his fist, trying of rid of the numbing pain. He staggered over to his wand and quickly pointed it to the window.

There was nothing there except the silhouette of the streetlamp from across the street.

But, was there anything there in the first place? Harry stared at the shadow of the lamppost on the sidewalk, frowning slightly before chalking the whole incident up to a lack of sleep. Though, his dismissal did not do the desired effect of putting his mind at ease; Harry's eyes never left the window as he stumbled into bed, gripping his wand in his clenched fist. It was not until half an hour later that he relaxed enough to push his wand under his pillow and pull the blanket up to his chin.

When Harry finally closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, the eyes in the window flickered in and out of his mind.

\O_O/O_O\O_O/

The skies were still dark when Harry ventured out into the empty, drizzly streets. As he walked, Harry spotted a few cars slowly make their way through the quiet town, picking up speed once they have reached the outskirt. Harry glanced at his watch; it was nearly 8:30 a.m. It was early, but it wasn't _that_ early. He expected the town to be a bit livelier, with parents shooing children off to school, or store-owners opening their shops, or business people getting their morning coffee fixes. Perhaps Harry was so used to the hustle and bustle of the city in the morning that the desertion of the town startled him.

He had woken up that morning with not only a splitting headache, but a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. After confiding in Bluggins who was of no particular help, Harry finally decided that what he had witnessed the previous night was nothing more than his imagination. He had enough on his plate; killer vampires, a rogue identity and a bookstore to maintain, he did not want to add a Peeping Tom on his list of shit to deal with.

He stopped in front of the bookstore and looked up at the sign with a grimace. Harry had purposely come a bit earlier so that he could air out the place and maybe transform it into something a bit more…pleasant, putting his faith in his wand to do most of the work. But as soon as he eyed the door of the store he sighed deeply while rummaging through his pockets for the key. Turning the old crap-shack into a halfway decent place was easier said than done. Suddenly, he wished that he were home. He almost missed doing desk work at the office, and filling out forms for Ron. He even missed Hermione incessant nagging—

A hand gently squeezing his shoulder jolted Harry out of his thoughts. He spun around quickly as his hand simultaneously grasped the wand still in his pocket, only to have a familiar pair of golden eyes meet his.

"Emmett! What the f—heck are you doing here?" Harry asked slowly releasing the wand though his hands still hovered over it. He was sure; no, he was _positive _that there was no one in the streets when he arrived at the door moments before. Where had Emmett come from, and so quickly?

"I didn't scare you, did I?" Emmett asked. His deep and oddly musical voice was filled with slight concern. Harry ignored the question, mostly because he did not know how to answer it without sounding like a complete coward. Truthfully, his heart rate was just returning to its normal speed.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked again.

"I still need that book for my niece. You said I could come back." Emmett said with a slight shrug, while running a hand through his dark, curly hair.

Harry was tempted to call bullshit. There was no person on this earth— man or vampire— who would come to a bookstore an hour and a half before it opened just to get a gift. Harry was sure that Emmett had an ulterior motive; he just had no idea what it was. He pointedly glanced at his watch.

"It's a bit early."

Emmett didn't answer immediately. Instead, he simply stared at Harry as curiosity filled his eyes. His stare wasn't as intense as it was the day before; but still enough to make Harry quite uncomfortable. Were they the same eyes that he saw in the window the night before? Harry shook his head slightly. There was no one there, he reminded himself. It was just his imagination.

Still…

Harry met Emmett's gaze and held it. He saw no guilt, even the slightest spark. There was nothing behind those eyes except the same innocent interest as he smiled the tiniest of smiles.

"It's not _that _early." Emmett finally replied quietly. Harry frowned as he turned to open the door.

"Right…well I was going to do a bit of cleaning before I opened. You can come in and look around if you'd like."

The bookstore seemed to have packed on an extra layer of dust from yesterday, giving the store a stronger mouldy smell. Harry threw the key on the cashier desk and rolled up his sleeves. So much for using his wand. With Emmett hovering behind him, Harry would have to work manually, which he hadn't really done since living with those complete assholes he called aunt and uncle. He picked up the load of books littered behind the desk and began moving them to the shelves. Every so often, Harry would glance in Emmett's direction, only to find the vampire's eyes steadily fixated on his every move, following him around the room.

"So…what sort of book would your niece like?" Harry asked in the middle of his fourth trip behind the desk. Emmett glanced up at the rows of books frowning slightly, and then pulled one at random from the closest shelf to him.

Harry squinted at the cover. _Sexual Behaviour of the Human Male by Dr. Alfred Kinsey_.

"…Seems quite inappropriate for a child." Harry said nodding toward Emmett's hand. Emmett looked down at the book and opened it to the front page, his lips moving faintly as he read the text. Harry suppressed a smile as he shook his head slightly, kneeling down to pick up the last few books from behind the desk. He was beginning to think that Emmett didn't need a gift for his niece at all.

"All right, I have a confession to make." Harry heard Emmett's voice from above him.

Harry scoffed, standing up. Here it comes: the ulterior motive.

Emmett was standing in front the desk so that it was the only thing between them. He placed both of his elbows on the surface and leaned upon them, inching slowly and closer to Harry. He became so close in fact, that despite himself Harry noticed how contrasting his dark eyelashes were to his golden eyes— Harry glanced away.

Cripes, it was not normal for a guy to be that pretty. It must have been the power of immorality, Harry thought, finding himself studying Emmett's features once again. He was fucking flawless; that blemish-free pale skin, that curly hair, the darkest shade of brown. And of course there were his eyes…Harry nearly scoffed aloud imagining how Ginny or Hermione would react upon meeting him. It was clear that Emmett was the embodiment of a panty dropper.

Harry then noticed that Emmett was still talking and forced himself to pay attention. Still inches away, Harry caught Emmett's eyes flicker down to Harry's lips and then up to meet his gaze once again.

"I don't really need a book. I went into the city yesterday and got a telescope for my niece."

"Oh?" Harry croaked. He cleared his throat. "Then why are you here?"

"While I was passing through, I saw a restaurant that I think you would like."

"How do _you _know what restaurants I like?"

Emmett's small, teasing smile broke out into a full grin. Harry lifted his hand once more and touched his neck briefly.

"Food's food and a man's got to eat right? I'll meet you here at six after your shift."

Harry began to protest, but Emmett completely ignored him.

"Great. Looking forward to it," Emmett interrupted, clapping his hands together as he straightened up. He turned his back to Harry and with one hand in his pocket; he waved the other one casually over his shoulder.

"See you later," He called. With the tinkle of the front door bell, Emmett was gone; leaving Harry stared at the doorway in utter shock.

"What just happened_?_" Harry asked the empty store. Of course, Harry did not expect a reply, but paused anyway before dropping the books in his arms on the desk and brushing his grimy hands on his jeans. He had quite enough of doing manual labour. Glancing out the door just to make sure that the coast was clear, Harry pulled out his wand and flicked it toward the scattered books, re-shelving them haphazardly while he paced. How did he get roped into having dinner with a bloody vampire? Harry would probably wind up on the menu himself. Maybe he should apparate back to the bungalow at a quarter to six, and then try to think of some excuse for when Emmett inevitably returned.

Then again, Harry continued to pace as he cleared the floor of the remaining books, he could use this potentially awkward and possibly dangerous situation to his advantage. It could be the perfect opportunity to probe Emmett, extract the information he needed and get the hell out of this creepy-ass town. Harry stopped pacing and he nodded to himself slowly—and plus, it would be nice to eat something other than Hermione's lasagne. Besides, if anything happened, he always had his wand…

Fuck it. Harry would only have to sit across from Emmett for only two hours, one hour if he ate and spoke quickly. It shouldn't be all that bad.

As he opened the door let in some fresh air into the bookstore, Harry couldn't help but glance down at his dust-covered jeans. Suddenly, he wished he had worn better clothing.

~O~O~O~

Bluggins was right; the bookstore was a popular spot. The morning was quite uneventful, but by the afternoon, people especially teenagers began flowing in by the dozens, not necessarily buying anything but browsing through the shelves, sitting in threes while passing books around to each other or standing alone, thumbing through the novels. Many times when Harry looked up from the register or from BS'ing his way through helping a customer, he spotted a different young girl smiling shyly his way. Harry forced his mouth into a permanent grin while constantly running his hand through his hair. Everyone in this town seemed to have a staring problem.

The good thing about the busyness of the store was that Harry didn't have any time to think about Emmett's return at six. That was, until five-thirty rolled around.

By quarter to six, Harry was a bundle of nerves. He wasn't really sure why he was so anxious; it couldn't have been the prospect of being killed. After all, he had faced that little predicament many times. Nevertheless, as he tried to ignore the uncomfortable bubbling feeling in the pit of his stomach, Harry continuously stole glimpses of the street as the door opened and closed with every exiting customer.

Once the store was finally empty, Harry paced the floors, twirling his wand through his fingers. He walked throughout the aisles, making sure that everything was where it was supposed to be. Finally sticking his wand in his back pocket, he rubbed his hands over his face rougher than he meant too.

"It's just dinner." Harry sighed, glancing at the doorway once again. He repeated the mantra until he heard a small rap on the door.

"Ready?" Emmett asked with a grin as Harry opened the door.

Harry opened his mouth to reply but oddly enough, couldn't seem to find his voice. Instead, he nodded and tried to pull his lips into something that resembled a smile as he followed Emmett outside and locked the door of the bookstore behind him.

"Er…" Harry paused in mid stride, teetering uncomfortably on the sidewalk once he spotted Emmett's jeep.

"Don't tell me you've changed your mind."

"If you recall, I didn't actually agree to this in the first place," Harry retorted. He hopped in the passenger's seat anyway, noticing that when Emmett had got into the car he didn't even bother to put on his seat belt. Harry immediately spotted and secured himself with the one on his side.

"So, how far is the city?" Harry asked, as the car moved off. Emmett replied that it less than an hour away and they both lapsed into silence. Harry listened to the hum of the tires on the cement for a bit, rolling down the window to watch the twinkling lights illuminating from the windows and porches of the passing houses. He propped his elbow on the edge of the window and leaned on it, attempting to count the number of trees that passed by; the ride was somewhat relaxing. He could almost feel his eyelids begin to close…

Emmett looked over.

Oh dear Lord, Harry thought suddenly wide awake. Was Emmett expecting him to say something? Why couldn't Harry think of anything to talk about? He couldn't just outright ask him if he was a murderer…wait could he? Harry considered the possibility of bluntly accusing Emmett for a brief moment before shaking his head.. No, Emmett would probably snap Harry's neck. As Harry racked his brain for a casual conversation starter, he could feel the car accelerating at an alarming speed. He held onto the seats under his thighs for extra precaution.

"Why are you going so fast?" Harry yelled over the revving car and the roar of the wind.

"You looked a little bored," Emmett replied nonchalantly.

Emmett shifted gears and sped down the street. Harry had to admit that it was exhilarating, the breeze whipped his face and hair, his pulse beating wildly in his ears; it briefly remind Harry of his own broom.

The car sped faster and faster, until all Harry could see when he dared to look out of the window were a blur of colours and lights. It was a good thing the streets were empty…

But as soon as the thought entered Harry mind, something large darted out in front of the car and froze, wide-eyed, staring directly into the headlights.

"Deer!" Harry yelled, already beginning to shield his head with his arms.

"Sweetheart." Emmett said calmly, as he looked over at Harry.

"What? No! I mean the animal! Look out—!"

Emmett swerved, but the jeep didn't move quickly enough. The crunch of the metal as it hit the animal screamed in Harry's ears. Before he could even open his eyes to inspect the damage, he felt himself being hurtled upward as both the he and car began to spin uncontrollably in the air. Scarcely having enough time to pull out his wand to ensure a safe landing, Harry suddenly felt the car pause in the middle of its stomach churning spins. With his glasses dangling off his nose, the blood rushing to his head and his stomach in his throat, the seat belt was swiftly ripped from across his chest before he was pulled forcefully out of the seat.

The same nauseating sensation of being completely upturned forced Harry's eyes to remain closed until he heard wind whistling in his ears. He pried one eye open but could only see what looked like the back of Emmett's shirt. At first, his mind couldn't comprehend what was happening; Harry knew that he wasn't in the car, his feet weren't touching the ground, yet he was moving…and quite quickly too. For a moment, he thought that he was flying. But how—?

It was in that moment of utter confusion that Harry realized that one of Emmett's arms were gripping the back of Harry's thighs. Harry's torso was draped over Emmett's shoulder, and his arms hung loosely behind the vampire's back. As Harry lifted his head and saw the mangled jeep become increasingly further away, he finally became conscious of the fact that he was being carried from the crash.

"I can walk, you know." Harry gasped, awkwardly trying to both loosen Emmett's grip and climb his way down from the vampire's tall frame.

Emmett stopped moving and set Harry down with ease.

"Are you all right?" He asked with his hands still on his shoulders. Harry couldn't help but notice how soft his touch was considering his strength. He pulled away.

"Are you completely mad or just incredibly reckless?" Harry asked crossing his arms over his chest. Emmett's concerned face broke out into a relieved grin as clasped a hand on Harry's shoulder once again.

It was then that Harry began to become aware of his surroundings. He was in a dense, dark forest, in front of a tiny cottage. The cottage was one that looked like it came directly out of a garden and home magazine; a small green lawn led up to the quaint white brick house, lined with identical bushes and small flowers. A glistening stream ran behind the home, Harry almost expected to see fish jumping in and out of the water at any given moment; but the sparkling stream laid unnaturally still.

"Where are we?" Harry asked still marvelling at the beauty of the little home.

"My brothers' place." Emmett replied. Then looking at Harry through the corner of his eye he added "Don't worry, no one should be home."

Harry shrugged as he followed Emmett through the front door. The inside was just as neat as the outside. It was clean, cozy; Harry immediately spotted the massive bookcase that was in the corner of the living room and raised his eyebrow. He couldn't say that the inhabitants of this town weren't learned.

"Oh damn…" Emmett muttered in concern as he stared at Harry's forehead.

"What?" Harry asked immediately, his hand flying to his scar. Instead, something warm and sticky met his touch. He removed his hand, looking at his fingers with panic.

Blood.

Harry began to back away as quickly as he could without looking overly suspicious or anxious; however, Emmett stepped closer to him and took his hand lightly.

Harry's free hand moved swiftly to his back pocket. Before he could pull his wand out, Emmett held up his own hand in mock surrender.

"Relax," Emmett said quietly, his eyes still on Harry's forehead. Emmett ripped part of his shirt with ease, and began to wipe the blood away gently. Harry felt his cool hand through the shirt fragment and closed his eyes. It felt nice. Almost as if Emmett was holding an ice cube to his head. He listened to Emmett continue to tsk and mutter to himself as he breathed chilled air onto Harry's face. Harry opened his eyes and watched in complete puzzlement as a serene smile crept onto Emmett's lips.

"I think you'll live." Emmett said dropping his hand. It was only then that Harry realized how unnaturally close they were standing.

Harry watched as Emmett's eyes travel over his face; starting from his eyes, resting on his lips. Harry threw Emmett an uncertain smile and tried to step back. But Emmett took a hold of Harry's wrist with his icy hand, keeping him rooted to the spot.

The vampire then broke out into his familiar boyish grin.

"You're not trying to escape because I nearly killed you, are you?" He asked with definite humour in his voice.

"I mean, what's life without a little danger?"

His golden eyes once again traced over Harry's face, finally resting on the new cut on his forehead. It was only then that Harry's heart began to pound wildly against his chest as the sensation of a million fluttering wings grew in his stomach. With one small step, Emmett closed the minuscule gap that was between them.

"It would be peaceful," Harry muttered, meeting Emmett's gaze.

"But it'd be so boring." Emmett whispered back as he leaned closer to Harry who could only watch in frozen fascination as the vampire's eyes became glassy…became foggy…

No, no, no, no, NO!

Harry blinked and tore his hand out of Emmett's grip, taking giant steps toward the front door.

"No! I mean, I should get going." Harry said quickly.

Emmett frowned in confusion.

"C'mon Harry, it's still early—"

"I know, I'm sorry. But thanks for...dinner?" Harry opened the door and already had one foot out of the house as he continued his nonsensical rambling, despite his inner voices telling him to shut up. "Well I guess not dinner…er…thanks for the ride anyway. It's just that I forgot that I was supposed to make my father some…tea…and help him…er drink it."

With that excruciatingly awkward end, Harry ran into the dark only daring to slow down when he could not see the little house anymore. He finally stopped once he spotted familiar buildings and looked back at the path he came from. Harry closed his eyes as he bent over clutching his knees, trying to take deep, stabilizing breaths.

"Ahh…fuck," he muttered between gasps. Once again, Harry Potter: the self-proclaimed king of getting into messes has gotten himself into a doozy of a pickle.

Harry walked slowly into the town, purposely dawdling at each stop sign and crosswalk. As he stopped in front of his house, he couldn't help but laugh, though it came out as a short nervous bark. He remembered how much he lamented on not getting enough sleep the earlier that morning. Tonight, he was sure to welcome a bit of insomnia. Because he knew that as soon as he fell asleep, Emmett's eyes would be flickering in and out of his mind.

* * *

_A/N: I didn't realize how long this chapter was...haha...I don't know if that's good or bad. But anyway, thanks for reading! _


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: AHHH! Hello again! I know it's been like 50 years...or a few months but I'm back! I don't really have a great excuse other than the fact that I've been super busy. Doing what? Not really sure. But random people and menial tasks seem to take up my day, when I would much rather spend it on here. ^.^

So hopefully, I haven't lost all of you. For those who are still staying tuned (very patiently) Thank you very much, and I hope you like this chapter. I promise I'll be much better with updating in the future. So please don't leave me *sob*

* * *

"That mother f— I can't believe that oversexed—that... _arsehole."_

Harry stomped into his living room slamming the front door behind him. Ripping off his jacket and tossing it on the floor, he collapsed onto the couch and slumped forward while massaging his temples.

What a night. Putting aside the fact that he almost died for the umpteenth time, Emmett had the gall to try and suck faces with him. Heat rose to his cheeks just thinking about that smooth-talking git. Who the hell did he think he was, trying to stick his tongue down Harry's throat like that? He should have just hexed that sleaze ball into oblivion when he had the chance.

"Bad day?" Bluggins asked brightly as he walked into the room and sat across from Harry. With a flick of his wand, a few dozen rolls of parchment flew toward them, landing neatly on the coffee table.

"No it was fantastic." Harry snapped, sitting up. "Spectacular, in fact. Other than wasting my whole day at that moldy bookstore, I was involved in a car crash."

Bluggins looked up and surveyed Harry's face. "Good heavens, are you all right?"

Harry nodded, waving his hand dismissively.

"Just a scratch. You wouldn't happen to have anything strong to drink?"

Bluggins flicked his wand again. A bottle of firewhiskey and two shot glasses emerged from the kitchen, hovering slightly above their heads. As the glasses began to fill, Harry grabbed the bottle mid-pour and brought it to his lips. Immediately a warm, burning sensation trickled down into his stomach, spreading to his limbs. Strangely enough, it was paired with a tiny sense of euphoria and invincibility that Harry was not used to feeling. He smiled down at the bottle in his hand.

"Never took you for a drinking man, Harry."

"I'm not. What's all this?" He asked motioning to the table.

Bluggins had been rather productive. In addition to finding out the records of most of the clan, he also discovered most of their origins. He explained that the coven was led by a man who was turned in the 1600s. Bluggins could not find much on him, but the younger ones, he noted, had caused series of deaths throughout the United States back in the day.

"Dating back to the 1800s to the early 1900s they were all over the map. I suppose the head vampire took them all in under his tutelage. They've been off the radar since then. There's no doubt in my mind that they are capable of the murders, they're just a bit more elusive nowadays. It's probably the classic tale of a rebellious youngster..." Bluggins' voice trailed off as Harry was taking his fifth gulp of whiskey and handed Harry the document he was holding. He studied it, taking in all of the candid photographs of each member of the clan.

"What do you think?" Bluggins asked.

His eyes fell on Emmett's photo. Harry remembered the moment that the picture captured; Emmett had just walked into the bookstore and was staring up at the shelves of books. Harry found himself smiled slightly. He looked so confused...

Harry felt his partner's eyes on him and glanced up.

"Hey Bluggins! You are after all...useless...not...so...?"

The sentence sounded all right in his head.

"I'm not so useless after all? Thank you." Bluggins muttered searching through the parchments once more. When he found what he wanted, he handed it to Harry who reached for it but missed and slammed his hand on the table. Instead of lingering though, the pain vibrated through his arm causing a tingly sensation; Harry giggled. Bluggins rolled his eyes and placed it in front of him. Harry squinted at the paper. Truthfully, he was having trouble focusing on the text. Everything was starting to look like one giant blur.

"That's lovely?" He said hesitantly.

"No, Harry, it's not. I'm going to have to think up some spell that can counteract anything the vampires may use on you. But with the one who can see into the future and the mind-reader, it's pretty much impossible now to catch them unaware. You're going to really have to pull out all the stops on your acting skills until I can come up with something."

"Wait, what? See into the future?" Harry couldn't help but picture his old Divination professor with pointy fangs and found that terribly amusing. "So they have fancy powers do they?" Harry sputtered in between another fit of giggles as he took another drink. "I guess the bloodsucking soothsayer probably already saw me coming, eh? Well that's just bloody brilliant."

Bluggins was too busy reading notes to acknowledge Harry. In the meantime, Harry took two more large gulps and stood up. A rush of dizziness engulfed him and he swayed slightly in his spot before he staggeringly paced the room.

"You know what I don't get Bluggins?"

"Why some of them have extra powers and others don't?" Bluggins asked without looking up. "Yeah, I'm a little confused about that as well—"

"No, no, that I can deal with. What I don't get is that I had something really good with Ginny, fantastic, in fact. And I completely screwed that up. She was so pretty and strong and…red. But you know Bluge, may I call you Bluge?"

"I'd rather you didn't."

"I felt trapped, Bluge. Do you get what I'm saying? I felt like I was in a locked room that was slowly filling with water. I'm not a good swimmer, Bluge. And I don't have regular access to gillyweed."

"Okay, I guess that's enough for tonight." Bluggins sighed with one last flick of his wand. The parchment began to organize themselves into rolls once again before darting out of the room.

"Yes, go on, get out of here!" Harry found himself waving after the flying rolls of paper.

"...With his perfect face and his 'ooh look at me I'm so good looking, I can have anyone I want' attitude. It's not like he gives a damn about how awkwa—uncomfort—weird he makes me feel. He just comes at me, like I'm some sort of..." Harry knew that he wasn't making any sense, but found himself unable to stop speaking. He plopped down on the couch beside his partner.

"Why do you think he...am I likable Bluge? I mean if you saw me walking down the street, would you say 'hey, that guy's all right' or 'he's nothing special—'"

Suddenly, it was as if all of the energy was zapped out of his body. Harry yawned, leaned back on the sofa and closed his eyes.

In his mind's-eye Harry could see Emmett move closer to him as he did earlier, his golden eyes tracing over Harry's face until they locked onto his own gaze, his lips spreading into a gentle smile before slowly leaned in…

Harry's eyes popped open as a strange fluttery sensation emerged in the depth of his stomach, rising up to his chest. He placed his hand above his heart; he could feel his own pulse beating heavily beneath his skin.

That can't be normal, Harry thought as he dropped his hand. He closed his eyes again and waited until the heavy thumping subsided.

Great, Harry thought massaging his chest slowly. Now his heart was spazzing out at the thought of him. Why did that vampire have such a weird effect on his mind, his body?

Chalking it up to the drink, Harry shook his head slightly, and began to rub his eyes under his glasses. He only stopped when he spotted Bluggins watching him, with his eyebrows knotted together.

"Are you all right?" He asked gently. His voice sounded genuinely worried and Harry found himself grinning.

"Aw Bluge! Don't be scared for me. I'm peachy, really, I am."

"Who were you talking about?"

"What?"

"The one with the 'perfect face'?"

Harry scoffed, and stood wobbly to his feet. A second rush of dizziness overtook him and he grabbed the arm of the sofa for balance. Once he found his footing again he started to slowly walk toward his bedroom.

"You need to get your hearing checked, old man."

"Are you sure you're all right, Harry? Nothing else happened tonight?"

Instead of answering, Harry flicked his wand toward the bottle and grabbed it mid-air, taking the final swig.

"Maybe you should ease up a bit. You're only supposed to drink a bit at a time."

"I wish...told...me...before...drained...bottle." Harry said in between hiccups.

OIOIOIO

It was the sound of Bluggins singing that had awoken him the next morning. It wasn't the splitting headache, or the feeling that his mouth had recently been stuffed by cotton balls dipped in something incredibly rancid. It wasn't even the dull pain shooting through his hand, even though couldn't remember why it was hurting at all. It was the cheery sound of a familiar song floating under his door that caused him to rise shakily to his feet. A wave of nausea washed over him, but thankfully, it quickly eased before he picked up his glasses, staggered into the bathroom and glanced at himself in the mirror above the sink.

Shit, if Hermione could see him now, he thought as the pale, gaunt face stared back at him. He splashed a bit of cold water on his face, and rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses, trying to knead out the heavy bags that seemed to have appeared overnight. After a few unsuccessful rubs, Harry dropped his hands in defeat and instead pulled on a sweater and the pair of jeans he was wearing the night before.

Harry approached the kitchen and the singing grew louder. Instead of stopping to greet his partner, Harry continued toward the front door. He had no doubt in his mind that he had made a complete idiot of himself the previous night, though he couldn't remember much of what happened. In any case, Bluggins was one of the last people he wanted to see at the moment.

"Harry? Is that you?"

Damn, so close. Harry took his hand off the door knob, sighing.

Bluggins popped his head out of the kitchen doorway and winced at the sight of him.

"Merlin's beard, Harry. You look terribl—"

"Choose your next word wisely, Bluggins."

"Terrific."

"As do you," Harry muttered, leaning against the door. His whole body felt heavy and achy, like it was used as a bludger during a particularly intense Quidditch match. He rested his head on the adjacent wall and moaned.

"I hurt, Bluggins."

"I'm surprised you're not dead."

"Well," Harry said, turning his head to grin at his partner. "You'd just have resurrect me, wouldn't you?"

As he lowered his head on the table once again, he heard Bluggins mutter something indiscernible as he shuffled into the kitchen and back out again.  
"Here." He said cheerfully, handing a flask to Harry.

"Coffee?" Harry asked raising his eyebrow. He opened the lid a crack and peered into it, his face immediately twisting into disdain. It looked green, lumpy, and had the distinct odour of rotten eggs.

"And, I'm supposed to drink this because...?" Harry felt his stomach churn just at the thought of putting the concoction to his mouth.

"Trust me; it'll make you feel better. Hair of the dog, right?"

Harry frowned. He had no idea what that meant but thanked Bluggins anyway and started to head out the door. But before he could step out, his partner took his arm.

"Harry, you're a good lad." Bluggins said quietly. "You know that, right?"

"Yeah, er...thanks," Harry muttered, feeling heat creep steadily to his cheeks. Where had that come from? As Bluggins handed him a jacket, Harry ran over the events of last night though once again it was without fruition. After one last look toward his partner who was watching him with a sympathetic smile, Harry headed out into the cool, sunny morning.

OIOIOIO

Eight hours and another wasted day later, Harry locked the door of the bookstore and huffed his way down the dimly lit streets.

The bookstore stint was completely pointless. He should be out getting to the bottom of these murders, yet he was frittering away his time by chatting to giggly high school girls and trying to fend off their not so subtle flirtations. Sure, the bookstore was a popular spot, but he had yet to see a vampire stroll in and browse through the Romance section besides Emmett on the first day. If he didn't know any better, he would think that the Ministry was winding him up; it was almost as if they just wanted to give him this bogus assignment to get him out of the way. Why else would he have to travel half way across the world to work in a fucking store—

Unbeknownst to Harry, his feet had led him to the into the wood where he knew the little cottage sat. Emmett hadn't even bothered to come see him today, to apologize or feed him with some excuse as to why he tried to make out with him. Harry pulled out his wand and twirled it around his fingers as he leaned against a nearby tree. He didn't know why he even cared that Emmett hadn't shown up at the bookstore that day.

He shouldn't care.

Harry sighed deeply and looked above him. He could see a bit of the sky covered in stars through the canopy of trees. He stood still for a while, briefly taking in the infinite number small, twinkling dots, though it was only a short time before his mind was filled with Emmett's ridiculousness once again.

A simple explanation would have sufficed. Even if Emmett didn't think that his actions warranted an apology (though Harry would have probably dragged one out of him by the end), it would have been nice if he would have at least acknowledged what had happened. Was this what Emmett did? Walk around kissing unsuspecting newcomers? Was it some sort of fucked-up initiation into this town?

Harry pressed the back of his head against the tree trunk, squeezing his wand in his tightly closed fist as the questions continued to swirl around in his mind.

Damn it, he did care.

A sudden and strong whoosh of wind rushed past him and disappeared, leaving a trail of rustling leaves and stirred branches in its wake. Harry straightened up quickly.

"_Lumos."_ Harry muttered.

The tip of his wand lit up and he slowly began to walk in the direction he came; toward the main road. As his eyes and wand scanned the premises, Harry broke into a run.

Something wasn't right. The forest was now eerily calm, there were no remnants of the heavy wind that had just past, everything—the trees, the critters that provided subconscious background noise where unnaturally still and quiet. And yet he couldn't shake the sneaking suspicion that someone was very nearby.

Harry continued to sprint through the woods until he met the road. He paused for a brief moment to catch his breath, and then continued to survey his surroundings.

Nothing.

He chuckled quietly. How could he let himself get spooked by a gust of wind? Just as Harry was about to extinguish the light from his wand, he spotted a large lump on the ground out of the corner of his eye.

Slowly and cautiously he walked toward it only stopping when he was a few metres away. He adjusted the glasses on his face as if it would somehow amplify his view. It almost looked like the body of a dead animal—

He pointed his wand toward it, and for the strangest reason his heart began to beat wildly in his throat. The light from his wand touched upon the thing...

It was definitely a body. But it was definitely not an animal.

It was a young woman lying in a crumpled heap on the pavement. Bitterness bubbled in Harry's throat leaving an ugly taste in his mouth. But despite the fear and nausea that rose inside of him, he squatted down beside the victim.

From a further distance, Harry would have thought that she had merely fainted; her body was still intact, there were only a few rips and tears in her clothing. Yet up close, Harry could see that a large chunk of her neck was missing, and a large pool of blood was draining from her head and the wound.

He shook his head slightly, and swallowed the bile that was threatening to escape from his mouth as he stood up.

She couldn't have been a year older than Harry, if not the same age.

"Shit," he muttered, extinguishing his wand and sticking it in his back pocket. Then deciding against it, he took it out again. Should he go to the police? Carry the body back to Bluggins and see what he would make of it? He looked around frantically, hoping that someone somewhere would appear and instantly know what to do, because he sure as hell didn't…

OIOIOIO

"Bluggins? Hey, _Bluggins_!"

Somehow Harry had managed to run through the house twice, both times missing his partner who was apparently sitting in the living room. On his third trip through, Harry finally heard Bluggins' faint reply, and spotted him sitting on the couch. His hands were folded around a steaming mug of what looked like tea, though it didn't seem as if he had even taken a sip yet. Instead, Bluggins looked as if he had just received a bit of shocking news; his eyes were wide, his mouth slightly hung open, all the colour drained was from his face.

"What happened to you? Anyway, get your coat on, there's something you need to—"

Harry paused and looked at the floor. He didn't notice it before, but someone had tracked something red across the room. Harry's gaze followed the red trail until it stopped across the room, and met a pair of red-stained trainers that were twitching anxiously.

"Emmett?" Harry whispered incredulously as he raised his eyes to his face.

Blood; from his shoes to his hands, Emmett was covered in blood.

Emmett repeatedly shifted his weight from foot to foot, quickly and nervously; it almost seemed as if he was swaying in the spot. His mouth opened and closed; Harry could tell that he was trying to speak but couldn't find the words to begin.

"What—?" Harry looked at Bluggins then at Emmett; Bluggins seemed to suddenly find the contents of his cup rather interesting and avoided Harry's eyes. Emmett however met Harry's stare as usual. He looked oddly young; despite his stature, Emmett's wide gaze and moppy hair made him look like a terrified young boy, rather than a possible murdering vampire.

"It was an accident." Emmett finally breathed.

"It was an accident?" Harry repeated. "Was that you? The girl in the woods—how was that possibly an accident?"

"Harry please..." Emmett interrupted shakily, raising his blood-covered hands. "I know this looks bad—"

"Looks bad?" Harry repeated again, trying to laugh derisively, but it came out as more of a wheeze.

"How about I make us a nice brew, and I'll leave you boys to talk, eh?" Bluggins suddenly piped causing Harry jumped slightly. He almost forgot that his partner was even there. Harry watched Bluggins practically run out of the room; for such a large man, he sure knew how to move when he wanted too. Harry turned his attention back to Emmett who was eyeing the small pools of red he was making on the hardware floor.

"You're cleaning that up, by the way." Harry snapped. Emmett blinked.

"I think owe you an explanation."

"You think? Why did you even come here?" Harry waved his hands around the house frantically, as if trying to bat away some invisible dark aura. "Why didn't you just—"

Emmett slowly crossed the room toward Harry, stopping only when they were a few inches apart.

Of all the things that had happened that night, _this_ was what made made Harry's heart beat so heavily in his chest? _T__his _was what made his palms so abnormally sweaty, to the point where he had to discreetly wipe them on his jeans? Not finding a body in the woods, not seeing Emmett covered in blood, but _this; _the fact that Emmett standing so close to him that Harry was sure that he could hear his pulse. _  
_

Emmett took another small step toward Harry, closing the small gap in between them. Suddenly, his boyish vulnerability was gone. Emmett looked like himself again; at least the cocky version that Harry knew. He smiled crookedly down at Harry before slowly pulling his shirt over his head and draping it over his shoulder.

Harry inhaled sharply. He didn't know why; it was an instinctive response he supposed, as he suddenly found it unbearably hard to swallow. But as Emmett's golden eyes once again flickered between Harry's eyes and lips, Harry continued to take in sharp little breaths.

Was Emmett about to do what Harry thought he was? No, Emmett wouldn't be that stupid, especially with Bluggins in the next room. And yet, there he was: leaning in like some horny idiot, while Harry's legs seemed to be disobeying his every command to back away. All he could do was stand rooted in the spot, staring up stupidly at Emmett as his face edged increasingly closer to his own. But suddenly Emmett paused, straightened up, and threw Harry a small grin.

"Do you mind if I used your shower?" Emmett said quietly, "I'm a bit...uh...sticky."

* * *

Thanks for reading. Hope you had fun reading this chapter as much as I had writing it!

(`'·.¸(`'·.¸ ¸.·'´)¸.·'´)

*Donna Ione*

(¸.·'´(¸.·'´ `'·.¸)`'·.¸)


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